Trying out this whole “ping back prompt thing”
It’s a snowed-in weekend
& I wonder what our neighbors have on-hand.
I wonder if they see us through snowy windows
or if they were able to catch their trains.
Next door I am tired.
I cannot speak well, but I’ll remember your name.
I’ll hand over our homemade
chocolatechip-nod-to-Americana with a
and apologize over things
like my barking dogs and weedy mess of a garden
and that is how we chat here,
we who are so busy, tired,
glad to have moved in.
We (meaning me) dreamt big, smoky barbecues,
grandiose Fourth of July fireworks
with Classic Rock and Steely Dan,
and home made pita, sauerkraut, chips.
Thought we’d be the hub, the lookout, the fort
with all the English books for your kids,
everything in miniature–
you know, to be cute,
One weekend I’ll escape the confines called “shy”,
“she’s got too much on her hands” or the biggest:
which needs no quotation marks around it.
Let’s not be too formal.
And yet, how I would love to still work my cosmetics and skin care
’round the neighborhood, fix my pearls
and make dates to get to know you over tea and a little makeover.
To practice knocking. And ringing.
To see how you decorated & found something to put on our same funny wall.
Maybe when all this snow melts,
I’ll go over
and see how you are.